I thought he’d let go, but when he didn’t, I looked up just as he pulled me to his warm chest. His arms went around me, holding me tight, and I… God, I liked that. I can’t say I didn’t know why I did what I did next. I know why I did, because I wanted to.
Drawing in a shallow breath, I closed my eyes and leaned in, resting my cheek against his chest. When was the last time I was hugged like this? I felt the next breath he took. When was the last time he’d hugged someone like this?
“Thank you,” he said, voice rough as he rubbed my back, following the line of my spine. “Thank you for what you did tonight.”
“It’s no big deal.”
He chuckled, the sound untried but nice. “You know that’s not true.” Pulling back, he dragged those hands up to my cheeks. “Thank you, Brighton.”
“You’re welcome.”
He held me a moment longer as he glided his thumbs over my cheeks, and I thought he might not let go. He might insist that I stay, and if he did, I… would, no matter how much of a bad idea it would be.
But he let go.
Chapter 20
Tink was hanging upside down from my headboard, his wings spread out on either side of him and his little face inches from mine when I woke up.
That summed up how my Saturday morning was going.
“Were you watching me sleep?” I groaned, tugging the comforter up over my head. “Again?”
“I was making sure you were breathing,” he answered. “Your chest was barely moving. I was kind of worried.”
I rolled onto my side, keeping the comforter over my face. “You didn’t seem worried last night when you told me to feed Caden and you weren’t even waiting up for me.”
“I did wait up for you!” There was a thump near my head that alerted me to Tink dropping down on the pillow. “And I wasn’t worried about the—wait, what? Did you just call him Caden?”
Crap. I squeezed my eyes shut. Caden. That was his name and there was a flutter deep in my chest that made me want to smile and scream at the same time. “I meant the Prince.”
“No, you didn’t.” A small hand pushed at the back of my head. “What did you do? Did you do more than feed him? Did you feed him with your vag—”
“Oh, my God, Tink, no.” Not that I hadn’t tried, but I kept that to myself. “And if you weren’t worried about me then why did you think I wasn’t breathing?”
“You’re old. You could’ve had a heart attack for all I know.”
“I’m not old.” I ripped the comforter off my head and glared at the little brownie. He was wearing a pair of leather pants, and I had no idea how he got a pair of leather pants in his size nor why he was wearing them. “Jesus, Tink.”
“Look, heart disease is the leading cause of death among women—”
“It’s not heart disease. I was sleeping. Normally. But then you woke me up.”
“Sorry?” He plopped down in front of my face. “So, I’m assuming Caden is okay?”
“He is.” I wiggled a hand free and scrubbed it down my face. “He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”
“Good.”
Rubbing my eyes, I shifted onto my back. “So, how did you know that he… that he healed me?”
“Fabian told me, and I don’t know how Fabian knew. Guessing he told him.”
“And you never thought to mention this to me once?”
“How was I supposed to bring that up? Oh, by the way, the Prince saved your life, pass the salt?”
“Actually, yes, you could’ve brought it up that way.”
“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
I turned my head toward him. “You did tell the secret.”
“Yeah, but I had to. Anyway.” Tink leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hands. “So, what happened between you two?”
“Nothing,” I sighed.
“Something happened because you’re calling him Caden,” he pointed out. “And the only person who calls him that is his brother… and now you.”
Head still clouded with sleep, I rolled onto my other side, away from Tink. “I need coffee,” I told him, throwing the comforter off. “But I need a shower first.”
“To wash away the aroma of a really, really good night?”
“Shut up.” I tossed my legs off the bed and stood. The room immediately went tipsy turvy and I sat back down. “Whoa.”
“You okay?” Tink was in flight, his eyes wide with actual real concern.
“Yeah.” I pressed my fingers to my temples. “I just stood up too fast. That’s all.”
“You should be careful.” He placed his hand on my arm. “Take it easy today.”
I smiled at him. “I plan to.”
His gaze searched my face and then he buzzed off toward the door. “I’ll go turn the coffee on.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Tink made it to the door and then stopped, facing me. “You do realize how much of a big deal it is that he told you his name?”
Pushing the mess of hair out of my face, I bit down on my lip. The fae were very peculiar when it came to their real names, as were most Otherworld creatures. Obviously, Tink wasn’t Tink’s real name, just one that Ivy had given him. “Is Caden his real name?”
His wings moved silently as he nodded. “I believe it is an abbreviation of his name, but yes, it is his name. He shared that with you. That means something, Lite Bright.”
I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. It didn’t matter though. Tink flew out of the room. Did it mean something? I didn’t have the answers, and honest to God, my brain was so not ready for a bout of over analyzation.
So, I got up a lot slower and got my butt in the shower. It was somewhere between shampooing and conditioning that I remembered where I’d seen something about black fae eyes.
It was in one of the old books about the history of the fae in New Orleans that Mom had curated over the years, collecting them from retired and deceased Order members. I’d skimmed through them as I shelved them, so I had no idea if it had any useful information, but as soon as I finished showering and towel drying my hair, I changed into a pair of black leggings and a lightweight black tunic-style sweater and decided to find out.
After making a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, I went back upstairs to the office. The air was stale in the room and particles of dust floated in the beams of sunlight streaming in through the windows, so I flipped on the ceiling fan.
Ignoring the clutter on the desk, I walked to the bookshelves that lined the wall as I sipped my coffee.
There were a lot of books and journals, along with personal diaries. Hundreds of them. And I’d almost finished my drink before I found what I was looking for, a worn, forest green leather bound journal marked Roman St. Pierre.
Taking the journal to the chair that sat near the window, I placed my mug on the old chest and tucked my legs under me. I knew who Roman was. He used to be one of the doctors within the Order and I was pretty sure he’d passed away well over a decade ago. Thumbing past accounts of patrols and random passages about research, I found the section I was looking for.